Red Sand
by Caisele
Summary: Malfoy. Concussion. Ron. Stranded. And lots of rolling around in red sand. Sounds like a sexy little slash story. MxM. Ratings will change for later chapters.
1. I'm Feeling Rough, I'm Feeling Raw

**RED SAND By: Caisele

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**Malfoy is a jerk 'cos that's his job in life. But what if something heavy fell on his head and gave him a concussion? Then Malfoy could possibly lose his memories and forget to act like a jackass. Yup, that might work. Let's try it. Slash. MxM.

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x

**I'm Feeling Rough, I'm Feeling Raw, I'm in the Prime of My Life**

Ron practically flew up the metal rungs.

His bag slid off his shoulders to rest at his elbows. As he moved the bag banged against his calf. But Ron didn't care. He let out a whoop as he reached to top. Turning and leaning over the rails he grinned down at the dock.

Ron stood along the narrow deck of the _Oasis_, the newest ship from the Wizarding world's most prestigious cruise line. The sun gleamed off the silver rail that ran around the hundred and thirty-eight ton cruiser. It's the biggest ship the Wizarding world has seen yet, being able to accommodate three thousand a hundred and fourteen people. The cruiser boasted of an indoor Quidditch pitch, a miniature beach, multiple restaurants, clubs, bars and casinos, and a three-floor dining room, among many other luxuries.

It was _Oasis_'s maiden voyage, and to the cruise line's dismay they've only sold a little over a thousand tickets. So they sent discount tickets to the different departments in the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Weasley won the draw in his department and went home with three tickets. He surprised Mrs. Weasley with the proposal of a second honeymoon.

But there was the problem with the extra ticket.

The twins were busy with their shop, Bill was in France, Charlie was in Zimbabwe, Ginny was torn between the cruise and a summer with the Grangers (Harry would be there, of course) and chose Harry…er, the Grangers, and Percy wasn't even taken into consideration…so Ron became the third wheel in his parents' second honeymoon.

It wasn't so bad when Ron really thought about it. His parents would want to spend as much time alone as possible, which left Ron to do whatever he pleased. And Ron heard there were two buffets that opened from morning to midnight.

As Ron grinned gleefully down at the gathered crowd that came to see the cruiser take off, he noticed a tall, rude, and imposing blond wizard, dressed in all black. Lucius Malfoy.

The man was standing alone, looking, despite his effort, very out of place in the excited and rather rambunctious crowd.

He looked up suddenly, glaring at Ron. The boy flinched. But then the man waved stiffly. Ron rubbed his eyes, wondering if his eyes were screwing with him. Why would Malfoy Sr. acknowledge him? By instinct, Ron turned to look behind him. A little ways to his right, a sour-looking Narcissa Malfoy stood with her son, leaning against the white wall of the ship. Ron reddened a little, embarrased. The man was only trying to bid a safe journey to his family.

Ands of course the Malfoys would be here. It was the maiden voyage of the most expensive and prestigious cruise ship in the Wizarding world. It was in their birthright to be a part of this.

Ron swore silently under his breath. He had to be on the same ship with Draco Malfoy for two months. As if attending the same school and having virtually all the same classes wasn't enough. Maybe after they crossed the Atlantic and doubled back around Cuba, Ron could push Malfoy overboard into the Bermuda Triangle, and Merlin knows, maybe they'll never find him again. Ron grinned to himself.

He backed away from the railing to locate his parents in the crowd of newly boarding people. There was an old fancy-looking lady making a fuss about her cats ("My little Poppy is a purebred, young man, and she will _not _be trussed down in the hold with mongrels…"). There were some wide eyed families leafing through the ship's booklets, clearly winners of a lucky draw like him ("They say there's a rock-climbing wall" "Oh, daddy, can we go to the games room please…?"). Ron stumbled through the masses and couldn't spot his parents anywhere. There were two thousand people on this ship (the cruise line had to settle for two thousand or risk losing some of their more important clients…ahem, like the Malfoys…if they chose to wait a month more for the tickets to sell), and trying to find his parents in this mess was almost like trying to catch the snitch in a thunderstorm.

"Uhm, excuse me, _sir_," someone was tapping Ron's shoulder. He turned to find a uniformed man peering intently at him. "May I see your ticket, please?"

Ron fumbled with his jacket. The man asked_ him_, not the well-dressed young couple to his side, or the fussy cat lady before him. Ron understood his intensions very well. He found his golden ticket and handed it over. "First class," Ron pointed at the little 'A' at the top right hand corner of his ticket. "Crown Family Suite," he emphasized smugly, watching the man's face turn a shade greener.

"I apologize, sir," the man said, a tad more politely than before. "I believe you are travelling with two other companions?"

"Yeah, my parents…I can't seem to find…"

"Yes, that is because they have already been taken to their suites," the man said with a little bow. "The call for those with a first class ticket has come earlier."

"Oh," Ron shouldered his bag, "I must've missed it."

The man dipped his head. "No matter, sir. My name is Barnabas Jones. I can show you to your room now, if you like – and if I may take your bag for you – thank you…follow me, please."

Ron was led through the crowd, into a set of elaborate double doors into a grand-looking lobby. Above his head hung the biggest chandelier he had ever seen in his life, flickering with fairy light. Twin staircases spiralled up toward what looked like a dining room. Ron grinned happily.

As they jogged up the stairs, Ron ran his hands along the marble balustrade. They arrived on the first floor of the dining room. Through an opening in the ceiling of the dining room, Ron could see the two other floors raised like balconies above him. At the top floor, a white head leaned over the balcony and surprised silver eyes caught Ron's.

Ron narrowed his eyes menacingly. Malfoy, sneered down at him. He was standing with his mother in the company of a uniformed man much like Jones. Their guide bowed to them curtly and said his name was Hartley, "…and the Royal Loft Suite is this way, follow me please…"

Malfoy gave Ron one last superior smirk and disappeared.

Ron felt a little shaken. This ocean liner was Malfoy's turf if you really think about it. It's full of rich people who cared more for your blood and your family name than for anything else. Ron had never felt so much like an intruder, like a spy. He followed his guide silently.

They passed by a few bars and cafes and turned right at an elaborate fountain with stony statues of mermaids who blew jets of water into the air and smiled at him as he passed. Ron fiddled with his jacket's buttons and avoided their eyes. Silly, he thought to himself, that he would be so shy. They were bewitched pieces of rock for Merlin's sake.

Jones led them to a gold cylindrical cage-like thing. He opened the door and motioned Ron inside, then stepped inside himself. Along the wall were buttons. On there buttons numbers and letters were inscribed in a fancy script. Jones closed the door and pressed S6. The cage trembled and then began to fall at an alarming pace. Ron grasped the cage's bars, freaking out. "This is a new sort of transportation," Jones explained, "based on some Muggle invention apparently. It's quite handy since Apparition isn't permitted on board, for obvious reasons, so this is the only way down you your suite."

Ron clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to nod. These Muggles are batshit crazy. His dad might have enjoyed this dratted thing though.

Finally they've jerked to a stop, and Ron burst out of the cage, shaking. Jones led him down a couple of empty hallways decked in Persian rugs and fairy lights. Doors lined the right, emblazoned with names like the Presidential Family Suite, Crown Loft Suite, Oceanview Stateroom, Promenade Family Stateroom…et cetera. Ron ran his hand along the convex wall to his left. "What's on the other side of this?" Ron asked. Jones turned and glanced at him quickly. "The ocean, sir."

Ron frowned. "Then why aren't there windows?"

Jones smiled grimly, making Ron think that perhaps he was being too nosy. "We…erm," Jones paused for a heartbeat, "have to cater to all of our customer's needs."

Just then the door to the Superior Interior Stateroom opened, and a pale, sickly looking man stepped out, followed by a short woman whose red hair hung over her face. Jones bowed curtly to the man as he passed and the man flashed Ron a quick grin. Ron felt his blood turn into ice. The man had fangs.

Ron stared after the couple. When he turned back to Jones, the guide looked shaken.

By now they've reached a door that read Crown Family Suite. There was a piece of parchment attached to the handle. Jones read it quickly. "Your parents wanted to have a suite to themselves; apparently…they've traded their bigger suite for two smaller ones, good thing we have quite some empty ones…they are staying right next door here in the Deluxe Suite…"

Ron winced. Ew, ew, ew…images were flashing through his head. Jones grinned at Ron, "You'll be staying in the Grand Suite, this way, please."

Just as Ron was leaving, his parents' door opened. Molly Weasley was practically radiating happiness in the very flattering green dress she wore. "Ronnie, sweetheart!"

His father was wearing his new dress robes. He gave Ron a happy grin over his mother's shoulder. "How'd you like those cages, son? Built like the _elevators_ the Muggles invented. I've been reading up on it just now. We really can learn a ton from Muggles. Genius ideas…they're full of 'em!"

Ron went to give his mother an awkward hug. "Hey mum."

"Sorry about the suite swap darling," Molly said, futilely trying to tame Ron's head of ginger curls. "But since it is our second honeymoon, and your father and I wanted to–"

"Yeah," Ron said loudly, "I got the picture. Great. You two go do your…stuff. I'll just…" Ron motioned awkwardly at Jones. Arthur Weasley patted Ron on the shoulder. "Why don't you come up with us son? We're setting sail in a couple of minutes and there's gonna be fireworks and shooting stars and all kinds of neat stuff."

Ron shrugged. His parents looked so excited, so happy. They've worked so hard for so long. They deserved this, really. "In a bit," Ron promised, "I wanna clean up first then maybe check out the buffet–"

Arthur looked at his wife thoughtfully. "That's a good idea, I'm getting a little peckish."

"We'll meet you up at the buffet then," Molly said, beaming. Ron bid them goodbye and followed Jones further down the hall. Jones left him the names of the cabin boy and the maids responsible for his suite. "The door handle opens to your touch and your touch only…if there is anything you need ring the bell by your door and Kenneth should come to your service, you can tell him to fetch Sarah or Celina if there's anything that needs to be tidied or cleaned. And if there is anything you and dissatisfied with you may ask for me at the front desk in the lobby and I shall forward your complaint. Thank you for choosing _Oasis_, sir. Have a good night."

Ron shut the door slowly after Jones left and dropped his bag on the ground next to the door. His trunks have been brought down and were piled in the corner of the most expensive-looking coffee table he had ever seen. This was his living room. He had a mini chandelier, and a plush rug that Ron bent to touch. It was so soft.

Ron shrugged off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and lay down in it. This was insane. He couldn't believe that all this was his. The couches to the side looked like real dragon hide, caramel colored, polished, and shiny. He ran about the suite, whooping.

His jaw dropped when he saw the bathtub, it could fit three people, Ron thought with a blush. And the sink was clear glass and, Ron realized in embarrassment, there was a stone mermaid much like the ones in the fountain leaning out of the wall above the tub, an empty water jar in hand, giggling at him.

Ron backed out of the bathroom and stumbled into the bedroom. The queen sized bed was layered in white furs and shimmering silks. Ron was so tempted to jump on and hop about like a five year old but didn't want to dirty it.

There was a mini bar and a vanity table next to the balcony. Ron yelled nothingness out of pure joy. He jumped over the bar counter, making the glasses clink, and found bottles of vodka and gin and mixers of every kind upon the magicked shelves that kept the drinks chilled. Ron grinned. His parents have overlooked this in their hasty swap. And, Merlin, was he glad.

Ron took out a glass and tried a little of everything. Gin didn't taste like anything when he drank it with the sugary water mixer. He tried all the coolers and picked out his favorite. There was Firewhiskey that burned his throat unpleasantly. Straight vodka made him gag a little, and he found he hated the green apple flavoured one. Ron found a little tub of vanilla ice cream and out of curiosity he dropped a ball of it in his Firewhiskey. The drink fizzed loudly and turned dark. Ron took a careful sip. It tasted like a root beer float but a thousand times better. There was a simple bottle of the Muggle whiskey that his dad liked so much. It tasted worse than anything else in the shelves.

Ron felt a little dizzy, a little buzz in his head. He went into the living room and opened his trunks. Finding George's old semi-formal robes, he threw a towel over his shoulder and slid into the bathroom timidly.

The mermaid on the wall waved at him. Ron felt himself flush. Looking into the mirror he found his cheeks ruddy red. But it was probably more an effect of the drinks than the mermaid's bold gaze.

Ron held the towel up to the statue. "D-do you mind?" he asked, gesturing. The mermaid smiled in understanding. Ron gratefully threw the towel over her eyes. He felt a little silly as he undressed, paranoid of the towel falling at the wrong moment. He stepped into the tub and the mermaid stiffened. Then she raised her empty jar above her head and tipped it. A jet of warm water hit him on the chest. "Hotter, please," Ron said and the water grew warmer. Perfect.

Ron instinctively reached for the curtains. As he leaned away from the jet of water to pull the curtains closed another stream of perfectly warm water hit him on the head. Ron looked up and jumped.

Hidden behind the curtains earlier was another statue. It was a merman, holding a jar above his head like his sister on the other end of the tub. His blank eyes were fixed on Ron.

Ron fidgeted. The merman made him more uncomfortable than the mermaid. The statue was rippling with muscles. The stony biceps and the flat, muscular abdomen were dripping with water. Ron shifted awkwardly, and resolved to sit down in the tub. The water gathered around his lower chest and was rising rapidly. Ron crossed his legs, eyeing the merman.

When the water reached just under his chin, the mers lowered their jars and a set of colored stones eased out of the wall, hitting Ron at the back of his head. The merman smiled, amused. Ron scowled and jabbed his finger at the pink sapphire that hit him. Immediately a flowery scent wafted throughout the bath as a pink powder fell from the merman's jar.

Curious, Ron jabbed the jade stone. The fresh scent of aloe and green tea assaulted his senses and green powder fell from the mermaid's jar. Ron tried all the scents and settled for the one unleashed from the diamond. It was a peculiar scent. It just smelled masculine. It smelled like perfume, like woodchips, like cinnamon, like sweat. It smelled great.

Bubbles foamed around Ron and he blew them into the air, popped them, and laughed like a child. As Ron washed himself he became aware of a certain heat down under the suds.

Ron blushed furiously. He looked up guiltily at the merman who was busy watching a bubble float up to the ceiling. Ron's eyes fell on his stony neck and his Adam's apple. Ron gulped. He felt the familiar jittery feeling run up his spine and spread like a web across his shoulders. He slid his right hand underneath the cover of the bubbles and ran his fingers up his leg. Ron watched the merman warily. He slid lower in to the tub and lowered his right hand as well.

His hands were slippery from the soap. The tight feeling in his lower stomach intensified and Ron gasped a little. The merman looked at Ron, uninterested. Ron pretended to be washing his thighs. The merman looked away. Ron turned to check that the towel was still securely on the mermaid's head. His fingers brushed against himself as he moved. And he felt himself harden even more. Ron moved to have his back to the mermaid. He pretended to be watching the bubbles like the merman.

It felt weird, knowing that he was going to do this with two other aware, sensitive beings present. Ron gave himself a quick stroke as the merman turned his head away. The heat was getting unbearable. A droplet of condensation fell from the merman's shoulder down to his chest. Ron squeezed himself lightly with his thumb and his middle finger. He raised his left hand to hold onto the side of the tub.

The droplet went lower and stopped above the merman's nipple.

Ron let out a silent gasp, and making sure that the merman was unaware of his activities, he grasped himself and stroked himself from hilt to tip. He rubbed his balls and squeezed them. Then stroked himself again. The merman turned to watch a pair of little bubbles tango to the ceiling.

The droplet was joined by another, and Ron watched, feverishly, as the droplet descended slowly, slowly...and then the shimmering pearl of water lazily enveloped the hard, stone nipple. Ron's arm pounded in the water, and with a wanton cry Ron slapped the side of the tub.

The merman looked at him curiously. Ron stood up quickly, sending water and bubbles splattering. He grabbed the towel off the mermaid, who was giggling madly, and wrapped it about his waist. He didn't even bother to rinse off.

Ron closed the bathroom door hurriedly behind him as he stepped from the heated steam to the colder air of the suite. He towelled himself off. Standing before the mirror on his vanity table, Ron regarded his reflection with interest. He flexed his skinny arms. He wished he had muscles like the merman. His gaze dropped lower. Ron shuddered, remembering what happened in the bathroom with a blush. That was random.

Ron dressed quickly, pulling on his underwear and socks. He had to button his dress shirt twice because he missed a button the first time. He pulled on some slacks, and then put on the dress robe which dropped to his ankles. Ron found his new shiny black leather shoes and was very glad of his big feet. No one else in the family had Ron's shoe size, so he always got new shoes even if he didn't own a single piece of clothing that wasn't a hand-me-down, or made by his mother.

Ron ran his hand through his damp curls and tugged some of them behind his ear. Then he let himself out of the suite and up the cages.

The fireworks hadn't begun yet, so Ron had a hearty dinner with his parents in the Wellesley Buffet and Lounge. The theme for the night seemed to be Asian cuisine. He tried sushi for the first time and fell in love with that green thing that burned his nasal passage. He piled his plate with crispy Bahme prawn, smoked salmon, tempura rolls, seared sea scallops, red snapper, and even tried some mango salad, which he didn't like all that much.

After he's had his fill, Ron followed his parents out to the lobby.

"The fireworks are starting!" someone shouted. And the people broke out into cheers. The crowd all started up toward the stairs that led up to the solarium and the Skylight Lounge. "Ron!" Arthur Weasley called over the jostling crowd, "We're going down to our suite balcony to watch the fireworks."

"You go," Ron replied, having to shout over the noise. He really didn't want to sit around watching his parents go all giddy and romantic over the fireworks. His dad grinned at him and pointed happily at the cages. Ron almost rolled his eyes.

He wanted to explore the ship.

Ron turned and tried to push his way though the people that were carrying him off toward the solarium. Someone elbowed the back of his head and his face was crushed into someone else's chest. The pain made Ron's eyes smart. The person he was pressed against was a man, judging by his flat chest, and he was tall. The stranger reached an arm around Ron to push off the person who was pinning Ron between them.

The stranger smelt like perfume, Ron realized, and like woodchips, like cinnamon, like sweat. It was the same smell Ron sported at the moment. It smelled great. There was a hint of holly that Ron recognized from one of Fred and George's experiments. What was it that Fred said? "Holly is lust, holly is sex. The Celtic warlocks used it in their aphrodisiacs because it _works_…trust me George. Just sprinkle a little of it on Angelina's croissant and you'll have a date for the Yule Ball…"

Right, Ron winced. That explained the bout in the bathroom earlier.

Ron wiggled this way and that but couldn't unpin himself. With a frustrated sigh he put his hands on the chest in front of him and pushed. The person behind Ron moved away and another person jostled between Ron and the holly-scented stranger. Ron was squeezed to the side of the stairs. He was pressed with his back to the balustrade. And then another body was pushed on top on him. Ron recognized the soft cotton shirt and the emerald robes. It was the man who smelled like holly. Ron looked up.

It was Malfoy.

Aww shit.

Ron scowled.

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in an expression of distaste.

People jostled them. And Malfoy was being pushed from behind, and Ron had to hold on to the balustrade for dear life. Ron tried to untangle his legs from Malfoys and he took a step down. Malfoy's knees ended up in between Ron's. Malfoy's groin was pressed against Ron's lower stomach.

Blushing madly out of embarrassment and total indignity, Ron swore. "Get the fuck off me, Malfoy."

The other boy glared daggers at him. "You get the fuck off me, Weasley."

Ron grew redder, angry. The previous buzz from the alcohol hadn't quite faded yet.

Malfoy pushed against the person behind him and elbowed Ron on the side in his attempt to further up the stairs.

"Shit!" Ron gritted his teeth in pain. His grip on the balustrade tightened. Malfoy looked down at him in annoyance. "Move your hand," he demanded rudely. Ron glared at him. Malfoy pursed his lips. After a quick look around, he slammed his elbow into Ron's neck, moving himself up a step.

Ron gasped in pain and his grip loosened. He almost lost his footing. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and managed one swift kick. He missed Ron's groin but managed to get his inner thigh. Ron cursed a blue streak as he practically fell onto the people on the steps below him. His hips banged against the marble balustrade, bruising, and he received some accidental shoulders and foreheads in his face. He was only half standing and people stampeded over his leg which was stretched a couple steps up. The pushing, excited crowd kicked, shoved, and manhandled Ron down the last steps of the stairs.

Ron managed to free himself as he reached the lobby. Leaning against a decorative Greek column, Ron saw Malfoy reach the solarium. The jackass brushed his robes off and mingled into the crowd with his mother, looking very careless and content.

Ron, on the other hand, felt abused and incredibly frustrated and tired.

When he reached his suite he made himself a few more Firewhiskey floats. Feeling his control slipping Ron, stumbled onto the balcony and managed to catch the last bit of the fireworks. Sipping at his drink, Ron glanced sideways and saw a pissed-off Malfoy glaring at him from the balcony next to his.

With all the alcohol in his body, Ron felt no anger. He was intimidated by the Malfoy glare and he eased himself back in the room. He staggered into the hall and peered at the door of the room next to his. It was the Royal Loft Suite. Of course.

Ron pounded on the door, waited a heartbeat, and then ran back to his suite, locking the door. A giggle escaped his lips.

Ron threw off his torn dress gown, kicked off his shoes, and stripped naked. He finished his drink with one last swig and then flounced onto his bed. The awkwardness and sense of alienation that has haunted him all day slipped away.

He slept fitfully.

x

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**Caisele:**

This is longer than the next two chapters put together, I think. I just wanted to set it up perfectly. I needed to paint this picture more for me (to enable me to tell the story) than for you guys…haha. But now you have a nice idea of the ship and the cruise and it seems I can do a lot with the setting, but I don't want to. Hint: do you see the similarities of this little situation I've built and another of an equally famous ship back in the day? And what happened to that ship in the middle of the North Atlantic? Haha. SPOILER!

Well then, if you want to see these handsome boys get it on…**GIMME SOME REVIEWS**! Constructive criticism welcome.


	2. Let's Make Some Music, Make Some Money

**RED SAND by: Caisele

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**Malfoy is a jerk 'cos that's his job in life. But what if something heavy fell on his head and gave him a concussion? Then Malfoy could possibly lose his memories and forget to act like a jackass. Yup, that might work. Let's try it. Slash. MxM.

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x

**Let's Make Some Music, Make Some Money, Find Some Models for Wives**

Ron woke up with a blistering headache.

As he eased himself out of the furs in his bed, he felt the heavy blanket of fatigue descend upon him. He was familiar with this particular fatigue, it was the kind that got worse the more he slept. So Ron resolved to haul his ass out of bed.

After scrambling for clothes, he went to find his parents, clutching his stomach as a wave of nausea assaulted him.

Molly Weasley fussed all over Ron as the family headed toward the cages. "Ron? You're looking a little green…Merlin, what did you eat yesterday?"

Ron shook her off. There were times were mum's fussing was welcome, like when she sends up fresh-baked cookies or warm onion soup to his room, and other times, like when Ron's having a massive hangover, when it was not.

The cages almost sent Ron's colorful dinner back up to his throat, but he managed to make it to the bathroom. He only got as far as the sinks before he felt it coming.

Ron bent over the sink, watching the clear crystal get dirtier and dirtier. The acidy smells of the contents of his stomach only made Ron choke and vomit more. It felt like shit. The good thing was when it was finally over, the boy felt much better. It was very different from the time when he played Firewhiskey bong with Fred and George. He was puking his heart out all that night before he fell asleep on the kitchen floor.

Ron steadied himself and went to join his parents for breakfast, though he didn't really eat much. His parents went to take a walk around to explore the ship as the sun climbed higher. Ron decided to wander about the lobby, looking at everything and thinking about nothing.

There was just an uncertain feeling that Ron couldn't shake. He didn't know what it was. He first experienced this strange mixture of awkwardness and vulnerability when he reached adolescence, and as he became more and more overshadowed by his friends – Harry, who challenged Ron's masculinity in every way, and Hermione, who brought out every rough edge and odd post-puberty flaw that Ron possessed – the feeling managed to overtake Ron.

It wasn't exactly like a depression, more like the feeling of being lost.

Ron managed to chance upon one of the ship's casino.

The first thing he noticed was that it had no windows. The second thing he noticed was the flashing lights and indulgent laughter. The third thing he noticed was a tall blond teen standing with the fanged man from the Superior Interior Stateroom. They looked like they were engaged in a very entertaining conversation.

Ron slid behind some slot machines, not wanting to be spotted in fear of confronting Malfoy. He wondered if the boy knew he was talking to a vampire.

Malfoy's pale brows were arched and his short, artistically messy hair stayed put while he shook and laughed, as if they were carved out of some shining, platinum stone.

Ron had never had a nice good look at Malfoy before. He was either busy avoiding the other boy's gloating, sneering glares or he was standing behind Harry or Hermione, staying them with his hand should they launch themselves at the arrogant Slytherin.

There was something about Malfoy's appearance that was otherworldly. He wasn't conventionally good-looking per se. He had the haunted, disdainful look that emancipated fashion models had when they walked down the runway wearing the newest robe designs. It was that fiercely antagonistic look that drew people to him.

Malfoy was very popular in school, of course, notorious even. And like any other popular kid in any other school, Wizarding or not, it was a given that the majority of the student body found something alluring and attractive about that person. All the really popular kids, like Malfoy and Harry and Cho Chang and Zacharias Smith and Justin Finch-Fletchley, were all 'good-looking'. Of course they were. It's a contributor to their popularity.

Malfoy had something that was different. He both attracted and repelled at the same time. Kids are just drawn to him, curious, but at the same time, they are afraid to get too close. Ron felt the same. He was drawn to Malfoy in the sense that he wanted to hate him, he loved to hate him. He loved to talk about him with Harry and Hermione, to talk about how much Malfoy was a fag and was probably impotent and about how he probably had all kinds of disease and maybe Pansy had a penis under her skirt. Ron also was repelled by Malfoy. He was unwilling to look at him. He was unwilling to engage in any kind of a civil conversation with the Slytherin.

So in the cover of the activity and the blinding lights in the casino Ron got his first really good look at Malfoy since that one time in second year when he and Harry were under the influence of the Polyjuice Potion.

Malfoy's face had thinned out since then, and lost all his baby fat. He was really a man now. He looked intimidating, imposing, having never managed to lose that air of a bully. He wasn't as pale was he used to be (since he went on some trip to Aruba last summer, Ron heard). And this morning he was wearing an off-white draped robe that played with the hard curves of his biceps and pectorals. The robe gathered a bit below his waist where a black leather belt was fastened casually. Malfoy had a really thin waist.

Ron looked down at his robes. The same ones he wore last night. The hems were frayed from when George wore it to Aunt Gertrude's wedding and stood on a fire cracker by accident. There was the rip from the episode on the stairs that Ron had forgotten about until now. His shoes were smudged. His ginger curls were getting long and hung about his head messily. Ron had small-ish shoulders, he knew that, and a soft tummy (like a girl's, as Sean had kindly pointed out). Ron had worked out over the break last winter and managed to flatten his stomach to a slab of white freckled muscle that was still soft if poked (which the twins took every opportunity to do).

Ron was perhaps almost as tall as Malfoy and half a head taller than Harry (who was almost the same size as Hermione, which isn't very impressive). His height was the one thing Ron had that made him a little less of a joke when stood next to his friends.

Ron prodded his tummy unhappily, glaring at how Malfoy's silky robes glazed off the defined muscles in his abdomen. These goddamn Slytherins, Ron sulked, they were really built to make everyone else feel inferior in every way.

Malfoy tipped his head back at the moment, laughing, looking very content. The vampire looked amuse, narrowing his eyes and grinning. The vampire was almost flirtatious in the way he winked and touched Malfoy about the shoulder. Or maybe Ron was just imagining things.

Damn, was the holly still in effect? Ron sniffed himself, finding the lingering enticing scent of sweat and cinnamon. He glanced up at Malfoy. Maybe the holly on him was still working its voodoo. That explained the vampire fawning all over him.

Or maybe it was Malfoy's thin, heart shaped face, and his nearly invisible brows that made his silvery stony gaze so piercing, or maybe it was the arrogance with which he carried himself that made him so very similar to the undead.

Ron shuddered.

Narcissa Malfoy appeared out of nowhere. With one chilling glare at her son, she excused the two of them from the vampire's company. Ron watched as she set her claw-like fingers on her son's arm and directed him toward a very pretty girl decked in red.

She was pretty like every other pretty girl. Conventionally and ordinarily pretty. Malfoy kissed the back of her hand in greeting, all the mirth slipping from his face, and cast one last glance in the vampire's direction before striking up a conversation with the girl, looking totally and utterly bored.

Ron frowned, unsure of what he witnessed, and silently slipped out from behind the slot machine. He heard the ship's horn sounding somewhere above him. They were approaching land. Portugal perhaps. Or maybe Spain. He remembered his dad saying that they were making two short stops, once in Europe and once more along the coast of Africa, then they were going out toward the open sea.

Ron spotted his parents in the sparse crowd heading up to the deck and followed, unaware of the stone grey eyes that followed him or of the ill-intentions they hid.

x

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**Caisele:**

Concussions are pretty hard to come by, so you're gonna have to wait one more chapter before Malfoy goes totally OOC.

Meanwhile…  
"You're a hot mess and I'm fallin' for you. And I'm like: hot damn! Lemme make you my boo. 'Cuz you can shake it, shake it, shake it. Yeah you know what to do :) You're a hot mess!!"


	3. Shoot Some Heroin, & Fuck With the Stars

**RED SAND by: Caisele

* * *

**Malfoy is a jerk 'cos that's his job in life. But what if something heavy fell on his head and gave him a concussion? Then Malfoy could possibly lose his memories and forget to act like a jackass. Yup, that might work. Let's try it. Slash. MxM.

* * *

x

**I'll Move to Paris, Shoot Some Heroin, and Fuck With the Stars  
**

Ron couldn't sleep.

He rolled over in his furs and silks, burying his sweat damp face in the cool underside of his pillows. He lay there for a heartbeat, and then twisted around to scratch his back. He lay flat on his stomach for a bit. Then he groaned, rolled over, and – _THUMP_! – fell off the bed and onto the soft, carpeted ground.

Ron sat up, rubbing his sore backside. He kicked the bed, and then yelped as he stubbed his toe. Frustrated, Ron got up and threw open the balcony door.

It was really humid. The air was dense and the cool ocean breeze was too wet to be comforting. The salty sea air left an unpleasantness in Ron's nostrils.

They had stopped at Morocco some weeks back and had since been heading out into the open sea. He heard that people were anxious. There was bad weather afoot and the ship had already been set off course twice. These wizards were a superstitious bunch. They scared each other with the rumor that another storm might just be able to blow them into the Bermuda Triangle.

Ron's dad laughed at the rumors, of course, and spent an entire afternoon in the smoking room pouring over the stone globe in there and pointing out where they were and telling anyone who would listen how ridiculously far they were from the dreaded Triangle islands.

Ron sighed, leaning against his balcony rail. He massaged his neck, shrugging his shoulders, and yawned. He looked up along the side of the ship and was surprised to see many other lighted room and silhouettes on the balconies. Guess everyone was antsy tonight because of the weather.

A bolt of lightning flashed overhead.

Some people in the balconies above Ron gasped.

A dark shape landed heavily on the balcony directly above Ron's. He heard a scream and a nasty sounding _crack_, and the sorry sound ended abruptly, echoing above the rolling waters.

Maybe it wasn't the weather after all.

What the fuck was that?

Ron turned to go into his room. As he was shutting the door hurriedly behind him he caught sight of Malfoy, topless and gazing up with a shocked look on his face. Behind the boy stood the vampire, who looked paler than usual.

The image barely had time to register in Ron's mind before he heard a heavy _bang_ on his balcony. Ron snarled at the fairies in his lampshades to dim their lights. They complied shakily.

Ron groped about in the dark, retreating to his living room, searching for his wand.

He stifled a scream as he heard the sound of shattering glass. Whatever this _thing_ was, it was coming in.

Ron panicked. He whipped open the door of his suite and stumbled down the hall. He turned to look back as he fled, and ran smack into an opening door. Ron fell to the ground, clutching his head. "Shit," he groaned. He looked up. From behind the door stepped Malfoy, with a thin robe thrown carelessly around his shoulders. The vampire emerged from within the suite behind the Slytherin, struggling to button his shirt as he sped down the hall with inhuman speed. "Shit," Ron repeated, realization dawning on him.

Malfoy's brows crinkled. He kicked Ron hard on the chest. "You saw _nothing_," he snarled. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but felt something cold and wet drenching his bare feet. He looked at Malfoy. Malfoy looked at him. They both looked down.

Water.

Water.

There was water everywhere.

Ron felt the fine hairs on his neck prickle and he turned to look behind him. In the unlit hallway, stood a tall figure with a long, heavy-looking weapon in his hands. He raised it above his head and then brought it down hard on the ground. And underneath Ron the ship split and water surged upward.

They were sinking the ship.

Ron was over taken by the ice cold water. He gasped and gurgled, fighting to keep his breath. He managed to kick and panic his way to the surface. The fairies had long fled from their lights. The entire hallway was filled up with water. Ron's head bumped against the uneven ceiling. He grabbed at any and everything he could get his hands on.

Those who managed to fall asleep were awake now in their suites. All down the hallway, people were blasting their doors open only to be sent flying back into their rooms as the water filled up the suites, one by one. The water level dipped and Ron could kind of touch the ground with his toes. He half swam, half pulled himself down the hall. "_Mum_!" he called, "Mum! Dad? Mum? Dad! _Dad_!"

Ron heart sputtering behind him and turned to see Malfoy resurface, choking and coughing. Ron didn't have time for Malfoy or whatever the fuck he was up to behind his parents' back. But there was a look on Malfoy's face as he stared into the half opened door to his suite.

Malfoy was standing with his side to Ron. The Slytherin bully's usually guarded face was wiped clean of any emotion. His hands were trembling. Water ran down his face and his neck. His previously loosely clasped robe was gone and his pale bare torso was shaking almost violently. His chest rose and fell at an alarming speed. His white silk pants clung to him. His face was green. He looked into his suite, eyes wide, as if witnessing something too terrible to behold.

Ron watched, dumbstruck, as Malfoy reached out one hand tentatively toward the open door. "…M-mum?"

Just then, the ceiling above Ron's head split open. His head snapped up as he heard the horrified yelps of the residents in the staterooms above. A piece of the heavy panelling fell. Ron dove into the water and the material only left a long red mark on Ron's arm as it scraped past. Ron surfaced, gasping for air. He was just in time to see another bigger section of paneling fall. It snapped as it hit Malfoy on the head. It was a dull, thick sound that seemed to be loaded with an unapologetic pain. The sound made Ron cringe. He saw Malfoy's head snap forward and his neck sinking into his shoulders. Malfoy fell face first into the water.

Ron gritted his teeth. He looked down the hall. The water was rising rapidly again. He looked back at the dark spot where Malfoy disappeared. Was he really going to go help Malfoy rather than go looking for his parents? But then again, his parents were very capable wizard, and Malfoy…well he was out-cold and drowning at this very moment. His brain cells were probably popping madly right now, lacking oxygen. His face was probably blue, and in a little while the boy's extremities would be black from the cold, but he wouldn't feel anything because he would probably have already drowned and died by then.

Right.

Ron groaned, hating himself. He turned back and swam under, holding his breath. Malfoy's hair was dark underwater but his skin was practically shining. He did look blue with little bubbles trailing upward toward the surface from his half parted lips. So he's not totally dead then. He was bent under a piece of ceiling that was preventing the boy from drifting up. Ron surged forward, grabbed him around the waist and hauled. There was red. The color blurred Ron's vision. He looked down. Malfoy's legs were cut on the side of the paneling. Just a skin wound.

Ron resurfaced quickly, gasping for air. The sounds and noises previously dulled underwater now rushed back into focus. Ron had his elbow locked around Malfoy's neck. He kicked his legs, treading water, keeping the both of them afloat. There were some red stains on the crown of Malfoy's head. Ron winced. It looked bad. The paneling was quite heavy. Hopefully it was nothing worse than a concussion.

Ron kicked his legs. The water level was still rising. Ron positioned them under a particularly big crack in the ceiling and waited for the water to push them through. His toes were numb. He couldn't feel them anymore.

As the water brought Ron and Malfoy higher and higher toward the ceiling there was another thud, and the entire level above them gave way. Ron cried out as the ceiling cracked and collapsed. Bodies fell, screaming, into the water around them. And Ron was vaguely aware of flashing lights, jinxes and spells being cast. There were people duelling the invaders.

Who could they have been? Pirates? If so why would they want to sink the ship? Death Eaters? Why would they come after a cruise?

Ron looked down at the boy in his arms and snarled in disgust. Death Eaters. Goddamn. But what he saw in the hall earlier didn't look anything like a wizard.

Ron was too weak to fight the current anymore. He was pulled under the water, and then pushed back up. He was tossed this way and that by the biting salty ocean. It wasn't long until he realized that they were washed out of the decimated carcass of the cruise ship into the open water.

There was a storm raging on. Thunder threatened to rip out Ron's ear drums and with every flash of lightning, fear stuck in Ron's heart. They needed to get out of the water. The rain poured, making it hard to see anything more than an arm's length away. Ron groped around. Ron found the wooden headboard of what was probably a very elegant bed and pushed Malfoy onto it. He's done enough, he thought, and his altruism ended here. Malfoy will end up wherever the fuck he was supposed to end up. And whether he got there alive or dead it wasn't Ron's problem. He didn't let the boy drown at the bottom of the ship. And if his conscience can't settle with that then fuck it. He didn't care anymore. He was cold. And he was scared.

Ron made sure no part of Malfoy was touching the murderously icy water before he shook his frozen limbs and swam toward something that looked like a stray lifeboat when lightning illuminated it earlier. It was floating a little ways off. It turned out to be a dining table. Ron tried to heave himself into it only to have the thing topple over onto his head. Cursing, Ron managed to half sit himself on the table's underside and gripped its finely carved legs tightly, holding on for his life.

Once in a while Ron heard people's cries and screams over the pounding rain, the roaring wind, and the booming thunder. But as the storm raged on, the yelling stopped. Ron shook in his thin, drenched pyjamas, hoping, praying that his parents were alright. He knew that they were, because if something had happened to them he would be able to feel it. He knew that they knew he was okay too, or at least his mum with her mother's instincts would know that he was alive at least. The thought gave him some ease. He would hate to think his mother was panicking and worrying over his well-being. He just hoped his parents weren't unlucky enough to cross wands with the monster from the hallway.

The storm didn't ease up until dawn.

x

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**CAISELE:**

And ta-da! Malfoy has been neutralized.

What was he doing with that vampire? Get your minds out of the gutter. It's not what you think.

I'm uploading this early (I was going to upload on Sunday) because I'll be at my parents' house this weekend (I feel so mature and grown-up writing that!) and parents' house means dial-up internet (ew). So the next chapter will be up later this following week. Just so you know, and I know you'd want to know...the next chapter is called **You Man the Island and the Cocaine and the Elegant Cars**. Dun dun dunnn...it's a clue!

_REVIEW_ IF YOU LIKE CLUES!


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